Fight Club
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: In retrospect, Harvey probably shouldn't have gotten into the ring with Donna's boyfriend. But Donna of all people should've known leaving him alone with Mitchell couldn't end well. Darvey confront feelings in the most unusual circumstances. My first Darvey fic.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing, and am just borrowing for my own pleasure. And hopefully yours. How fun would it be to own live Darvey action figures though!

* * *

In retrospect, Harvey probably shouldn't have gotten into the ring with Donna's boyfriend. But Donna of all people should've known leaving him alone with Mitchell couldn't end well.

* * *

Her appearance rescued him for the world's most dull business mixer event an hour in, covered from shoulder to feet in a turquoise dress that fit her body like liquid. Liquid he could imagine effortlessly pooling at the floor with the pull of a zipper. He brushed aside the image and where that led his thoughts as they met eyes from across the room. A grin spread across his face. It quickly faded though, as an arm slipped through hers. Donna's head turned, a small smile offered to the man alongside her.

The guy was a tall blond, dressed in a tux fitted in all the wrong places, like he was making a statement that didn't quite come together.

They aproached and stopped just short of the distance Donna would normally be comfortable, creating unusual distance most likely for her date's sake.

"Harvey," she greeted.

"Donna. You look incredible." Not unusual. It's part of what made them the perfect team; never a detail ignored.

"You do too," she offered in a more formal way than she usually would.

She always kept him and her boyfriends in separate corners, but her distant demeanor made him feel a need to defend his spot. Usually to the outside they were boss and assistant. He'd been struggling with something since the Liberty Rail situation. He'd put it down to her leaving him, and then coming back, and all the stress from Mike being in prison. She was his closest confidant; his friend sure. But there was a space that they occupied together he didn't want severed. The space had begun melting into areas beyond work, and he didn't like her ignoring it. "This must be Malcolm."

" _Mitchell_ ," she corrected, narrowing her eyes.

He knew it was Mitchell. He just didn't want _Mitchell_ knowing he knew it easily.

"Nice to meet you, Harvey was it? How do you two know each other?"

 _Touche._ Harvey didn't buy for a second the guy didn't know the answer to that.

"Harvey's my boss. Remember?"

He knew it. _Boss._ There was that distance that made him want to defend himself as more. He slid closer to Donna, ignoring her tag along. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Well, Mitchell needed to network, so I thought I'd come for support, all while appeasing Jessica."

"Oh, _you're_ chasing clients on your own now? If you were looking for a bonus, you could just ask, Donna. I'm due to take you shopping again." She might be Mitchell's girlfriend, but they had history on their side.

Her eyes widened as she glanced uneasily at her date. Mitchell's mouth set in a straight line as his shoulders tensed.

 _No quip about someone needing to chase clients. No smart remark about not needing clients to deserve a bonus._ This is why her being in a relationship bothered him. People might mistakenly call it jealousy, but her treating him like a stranger was bullshit.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit of a dick. He'd always avoided getting in the way of her relationships in the past, unless it was quietly passive. Stephen was the exception, but he deserved that fight.

Interferring in Donna's relationship would make him an asshole. Which he was, but he respected her too much to do her fucking up, even if it bothered him to come face to face with her boyfriend.

Harvey sucked in an irritated breath. He'd attempt to be civil, for tonight anyway, even if it was overrated. "So, what is it you do, Mitchell?"

"I'm an Anesthesiologist."

"At a business mixer?" Harvey's brow furrowed, a slight smirk on his lips. He had him beat financially by a long-shot.

"His team is looking for office space. It's hard to come by in Manhattan," Donna said.

"Maybe he could get something on our floor." His head tilted, failing at suppressing a smirk in Donna's direction.

Donna's eyes widened in alarm. So she didn't want her boyfriend around all the time.

"Oh really, you have something?" Mitchell asked.

She kicked Harvey's shin, Mitchell seeming oblivious.

Right, not causing problems. "Oh that's right. My partner just gave the space to a bunch of dickhead investers." See, he wasn't _always_ an asshole.

Donna's shoulders relaxed.

"That's too bad. My father's company has a lot of contacts here tonight, so I'm sure I'll find something."

"He's a Vanberg," Donna threw in pointedly at Harvey.

 _The_ Vanbergs? Shit, that family was loaded. Points for Mitchell: Money. _And_ Donna. Points for Spector: Fashion sense. And also Donna. He had more hours with her. Minus the late night kind he didn't want to think about.

The rest of the conversation Mitchell droned on about surgery hours, medical politics, and asked casual law questions.

Harvey scored another point for himself labeled: not-boring-as-fuck, and surpressed his annoyance, trying to nod and respond at the right times. For Donna's benefit only, he didn't use a lame excuse to end the conversation.

Despite Mitchell dragging Donna away to socialize frequently, they kept ending up in the same circles. One of the moments they were away Harvey managed to set up the bait for a new client with killer billable opportunities, so his obligation for the evening was handled.

Mitchell kept putting off dancing with Donna, and when he was finally about to take her out to the floor, he appologized as he spotted someone he wanted to meet with free. Donna told him she was taking a break from schmoozing, leaving Harvey alone with her for the first time of the night.

Donna sat a seat away from him.

They met eyes and she looked away. "Are you sorry we ended up at the same place tonight?"

His brow scrunched together. "No, why would you ask that?"

She cocked her head, staring pointedly at him.

He did a small shrug, grinning. "So, I don't like to share. I'm still happy to see you."

"You need to play nice, Harvey."

"I'm trying," he said with pointed annoyance.

She kept her gaze on him, her expression unfaltering.

"I even offered the guy office space."

"And I'm sure that was totally genuine."

He grinned into his drink.

"You do owe me a shopping trip now," she said with an edge in her voice.

"Did you get a client?" he challenged.

"No, but _you_ only managed to because I didn't throw a drink at you earlier."

"If you had I would have gotten another client. Damon Symmonds is a sucker for a guy mistreated by women in his life."

She rolled her eyes. "He's a sucker for middle-aged attractive men. That's why his wife _did_ the mistreating."

"Are you calling me attractive?"

"I was focussing more on the middle-aged."

"Aren't we almost the same age?" He motioned between them. "Got any plans for the big five-oh yet?"

"Do you?" She tossed a mint at him and he grinned.

"What about a dance?" The words felt foreign, but somehow right.

"What?" Her eyes widened.

"What if I offer you a dance?"

"If by dance you mean I let you step on my shoes and you buy me two new pairs, that might repay a portion of how much a pain in the ass you've been tonight." She sipped her wine, with an annoyed look he knew was all show.

He held up his palms. "I'm not doing anything other than what I usually do."

"Exactly. It's normal for you to be a pain in the ass. Which is why I deserve my extra large collection of handbags and shoes."

"You're speaking that way to _your boss_ , you know." He made a point to emphasize her words from earlier.

"What are you going to do, fire me?"

"I won't. Only because my clients hate change."

"What clients?"

He downed the rest of his glass of wine, ignoring her low blow.

She darted her eyes to where other guests were dancing. "Are you going to honor your deal with me, or continue annoying me with dull conversation?"

He bit the inside of he cheek at how incredibly infuriating she was, before standing and offering her his hand. He pulled her towards an empty spot on the parquet floor in the center of the room.

She hesitated before meeting against him. "You know this isn't a good idea."

"Just count steps and you'll be fine, Donna," he offered matter-of-factly as he pulled her toward his body.

"You know what I'm talking about."

He pulled back, studying her a moment. Her hair was piled elegantly on top her head in an updo with pieces framing her face, one of the many ways she turned heads more than the majority. He wasn't sure he knew anything for certain when it came to her anymore. "You hadn't mentioned him in a long time." Harvey cocked his head in Mitchell's direction.

"You know I don't like to mix my love life and business."

"We stopped being just business a long time ago and you know it."

He noticed her swallow, silently moving with him through several phrases of the music. "You can't do this Harvey."

"Do what?" He pressed his face alongside hers, trying to make his movements natural and platonic, despite how perfect their unusual state pressed together felt.

"Say things like we're not just business just to forget them tomorrow. Especially when I'm with Mitchell."

"What? We're friends."

This time she cocked her head, giving him a glare that showed her patience was thin.

He let out a frustrated sigh. This wasn't the time to do this. "You know I'd never go there Donna unless he wasn't in the picture."

"Well he is and you're leading me there." Her voice had raised, and she glanced around them with unease on her face.

He frowned, not caring about the rest of the goddamned room. Her feelings did mean something though, and he tried to be extra aware of that since she'd returned to his desk. "I'm…" _Confused? Tempted? Having a hard time separating the business and personal in my head?_ "Sorry."

She looked away, sighing, falling back into their steps.

They fell into silence as they danced, and with the quiet his senses climbed. The soft curve of her bare back against him fingertips, inches from getting more intimate. She felt right pressed against him, too comfortable and familiar. The kind of familiar that denoted their deep connection. He sucked in a breath, which drew in the citrus and almond. The scents so familiar and right he ignored the urge to taste her skin.

This was Donna, not someone harmless to seduce. The situation with Mike had taken its toll, and that's what these thoughts were about. Isn't that what he learned going to therapy? Feelings aren't always what they seem like on the surface.

"Harvey…" her voice trailed off softly against his ear.

He closed his eyes briefly over how intimate her breath felt there. "What?"

"Were you implying you would go there?"

He stalled his steps.

"If Mitchell wasn't in the picture..."

He pulled back to see her face. The last time she looked at him this way, with a mixture of hope and fear, he'd let the battle in his head end with him declaring love and walking away. Therapy be damned; he wasn't going to deny his wants with Donna again. He needed to stop thinking. He'd been spending a lifetime doing it, and all it had gotten them was this elephant-sized unanswered question. "Would you want me to?"

Their eyes locked, and she blinked softly, her lips parting with a silent answer.

"Thanks for keeping my girlfriend company, but I think I can handle things from here." Mitchell appeared behind Donna as her lips closed.

Harvey's jaw tightened, the moment broken with Donna pulling away, staring at the floor. He wanted to object that they were in the middle of something, demand for Mitchell to disappear, but this wasn't his decision, it was Donna's. He swallowed back frustration, his throat dry.

"She's all yours," he said to Mitchell, striding toward the bar for another drink, forcing himself to not look back at the moment lost.

Three drink orders later, and Harvey was ready for the evening to end. He texted Ray and began toward the coatroom.

"Leaving Harvey?" Mitchell asked from behind.

He turned, spending an extra second studying Donna before answering. Would they go home together? He couldn't think about things like that. "I've already stayed longer than I intended to."

Donna frowned.

Mitchell clapped his hands together. "Well, good meeting you."

"Likewise." Harvey felt weird shaking his hand. Tonight was a mistake. They couldn't do this as long as Donna was with him. He more than anyone should've known even toying that boundary would only lead to trouble.

Donna's phone chimed, and she glanced at the screen and looked worriedly between them. "I- I have to take this." She looked to Mitchell. "Give me a minute?"

Harvey wanted to get out of there, but whatever the phone call was about must've been important considering the look on Donna's face. Harvey bit the inside of his cheek watching her rush into the hall.

Mitchell began to chatter again, but Harvey only half listened. "With lawyer's hours, I don't know how you guys take care of your health."

"Lots of MacCallan," Harvey said offhandedly.

Mitchell furrowed his brow.

"That's a joke." Harvey looked away to avoid rolling his eyes. "I jog before work sometimes, but mostly I spend lunches in the ring or hitting the bag." Harvey offered offhandedly.

"You box?"

"Since I was a kid."

"Where do you train?"

Harvey regained focus, curious where this was going. "This small gym twenty minutes from my firm. Reed's."

"Rough place."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

Mitchell laughed."I wondered if we ever ended up in the same circles."

" _You_ box?"

"Don't sound so surprised. We should go some rounds sometime. I'll even come to your place."

Harvey studied him, amused. "I don't think Donna would be too happy with the idea."

"If we happen to run into each other there, no harm right?"

There was more under the surface with this guy then he let on, a challenge under the surface of casual invites. Now he itched to get this guy in the ring. "I don't turn down a fight."

"Neither do I."

Harvey's jaw ticked, just as Donna returned next to Mitchell. She shifted uneasily, her face pale.

"What's wrong?" Harvey frowned.

Mitchell swung his gaze to her, a hand on her back.

"Er- nothing. My sister's pregnancy isn't going well. They're inducing her in the morning."

"Julie?" Harvey asked.

"Amanda."

"Again?"

"Fifth times the charm. This one's a girl." Her face perked up a bit.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. You can visit," Mitchell said.

"Yeah. It's just..." She looked to Harvey. "Work's really busy."

"We can handle it. You should go." Harvey slipped his hands in his pockets.

She drew in a deep breath. "Are you sure? I'd try to come back quickly."

"Go." He pressed. "She'll need you."

She nodded. "Okay." She turned to Mitchell. "Do you mind if I drop out early? I'd like to go home and pack."

"I'll drive you," Mitchell offered.

"You don't have to-"

"I didn't finish all I wanted to, but it'll work out. Just give me a minute?"

Harvey wanted to be the one to take her. He wanted to interject that he had the car ready, and he was the one who _knew_ her. But his attempts tonight at marking his place had already overstepped, and he didn't want to add to her stress.

She touched Mitchell's arm. "I'll meet you in the hall. Thank you Harvey."

He gave her a nod. "I'll see you when you get back."

Donna shuffled through the crowd. When she disappeared from sight, Mitchell jutted his too narrow jaw. "Sounds like the perfect time for us to meet in the ring?"

Harvey scrutinized the man, distrust and distaste littering his tongue. He smiled, his head tilting confidently, then handed him a business card without a word before walking away.

* * *

 **Well, that was my very first Darvey fic. These two won't leave me alone(thankfully!). I intended it to be shorter and more light, but Darvey took over, as I find characters do. It took me forever to get the nerve to post. I'll appreciate any reviews! They're so encouraging when I'm in a self-doubt cycle.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

I'm so sorry this took me forever to update! I have most of the final chapter written, and hopefully I can get it pretty enough to post this week to complete the story. I'd greatly appreciate any reviews! It keeps me motivated and feeling like I'm not just a lonely person typing in a box. Thank you so much for the awesome response to the first chapter!

I own nothing, and am just borrowing for my pleasure. And hopefully yours. How fun would it be to own live action Darvey figures though!

* * *

The week had been hell without her.

The temp could figure out little more than the phones. Jessica was stressed, which meant she handed over demands he hated. She was ready to have his ass because the McMillan Brothers were threatening to walk from PSL if Harvey didn't figure out a way out of a leasing contract. He'd been struggling anyway without Mike, and now he was missing the one person who kept his head straight.

Harvey needed to get in the ring to let off some steam.

Mitchell had waited exactly two days to text him after Donna left. _Dick._ Which made the decision easier to go through with. Except for the guilt he felt over keeping it from her.

His finger hovered over her number in his phone. She'd attached a photo in his contacts when she programmed her number in, one someone had snapped of them at an office holiday party a few years before. She was laughing, and he was alongside her, staring with a smirk, obviously after a few drinks.

He couldn't remember what he'd said to earn the beauty of her untamed laugh. Probably something about Louis. They'd had a blast that night, staying close. King cats to all the other office mice.

She made everything in his life slip into place, she always did. _Goddamn she was gorgeous_.

He frowned, letting his phone clink on the glass of his desk, the screen going black.

Immediately it hummed on his desk. He picked it back up, grinning when he saw her message.

 **Donna:** Missing me yet?

 _God yes._ He relaxed back in his chair and entered an alternate response.

 **Harvey:** Who is this?

 **Donna:** Someone about to extend her time off.

He rolled his eyes, his mouth settling into a smirk.

 **Harvey:** Were you gone? I hadn't noticed.

 **Donna:** You noticed. I've seen the results of being off your desk before.

He couldn't argue, especially when the fallout from the last time were still a sore subject.

 **Harvey:** How's your sister?

 **Donna:** Which one? They're both craving attention.

 **Harvey:** That bad?

 **Donna:** You know me. I've got it under control.

 **Harvey:** Never doubted you.

She didn't respond right away, and he found himself wanting to reengage. _When are you coming back?_ Delete. _I miss you._ He wasn't sending _that._ It chimed before he could come up with something else.

 **Donna:** I'm just checking in on you. I know things are rough there.

 **Harvey:** I'll be fine. Well, unless Louis and I finally push Jessica to commit a double homicide.

His phone vibrated in quick succession.

 **Donna:** Tell her to wait until I get back. She'll need me to make arrangements. I'm in your will, right?

 **Donna:** And your porn collection is on your hard drive, filename: underreview, password: spectator?

 **Harvey:** How the hell do you... Nevermind. I don't want to know. Changing that now.

 **Harvey:** By the way, I updated my will when you left me for Louis. So sorry I haven't gotten around to changing it back.

 **Donna:** Uh oh. Did I misfile that when I came back to your desk?

He rolled his eyes, face engaged in the type of grin only she could bring.

 **Donna:** You should be working.

 **Harvey:** Says the woman not at her desk this week.

 **Donna:** I tried to talk you out of it. You told me to go.

 **Harvey:** I did. Like you pointed out, I just don't function well without you around.

He hesitated before hitting send, his thumb brushing the screen before he could take it back.

 **Donna:** I'll put your world back in order in just a few days.

 **Harvey:** Looking forward to it.

And God was he. He pressed his lips together when she replied with a smiley emoticon. He glanced at the time before slipping his phone in his pocket. It was almost time to get to the gym. He grimaced, still feeling badly about keeping things from her.

But he _wanted_ this.

He wouldn't actively pursue Donna as long as she was with Mitchell. But he sure as hell could take out a little frustration on the person in his way, especially when they were nearly begging him to.

Harvey beat Mitchell to the gym. He had the home court advantage, and planned to use the slight edge.

The staff prepped the ring for him while he changed, then he climbed in to warm up and wait.

He pulled out his gloves, keeping his head clear during his usual prep.

To him, emotions were usually a waste of energy. He learned early on you could bottle up every annoyance, every frustration, every feeling, and they would be inside, dormant, ready to express when he needed them. Like in a deal, the courtroom, or in the ring.

The fact that Harvey had a lifetime of practice at this gave him an edge. He didn't get nervous before a fight, in part because of that edge. Nerves either weaken, or they're used like any other emotion- for power. Harvey didn't agonize over little internal details, but that didn't mean he didn't utilize them.

Mitchell showed up during Harvey's warm up with one of the trainers. The guy looked fit in his tank and shorts, in a cut way that said he worked out more with a personal trainer than at a real gym. Harvey could size up an opponent, but he never underestimated them. Underestimating equaled losses. Harvey saw opponents as challenges to conquer.

"You ready?" Mitchell asked as he climbed between the ropes.

"Always am. You sure you are? No warm up?"

Mitchell locked eyes with him. "Nope. I don't need it. Best man wins, right?"

Harvey shook his head with a grin as he took a swig of his water. "I don't know that they'd ever call me the best man. But definitely the one with the most wins."

The other man narrowed his eyes. "We'll see."

Mitchell approached, setting his feet with a confident smirk.

The first punches Harvey always used for minor annoyances. Like Louis bringing up trivial shit. Bathrooms and bran bars.

Mitchell stayed with him during that series, but Harvey could tell he had the slight edge in footwork.

The second series was always saved for case shit, stuff from work. Harvey landed several jabs to Mitchell's gut.

"How long have you known Donna?" Mitchell reciprocated a pair of hits to Harvey's chest.

He hesitated with the truth, even though it's what he wanted to shove in the guys face. His fist to the jaw was the first answer. "Since we worked at the DA's office," was the second.

They blocked each other in a few attempts, matching up well.

"Aren't you going to ask about me?" Mitchell stepped a foot back as Harvey got a glove to his shoulder.

"No." Harvey went for his jaw again.

Mitchell blocked his face for the next hit before Harvey miscalculated a few hits to his face, Mitchell throwing him off balance.

Harvey drew in his focus; the emotion he'd been holding back finally coming in. This series threw Mitchell almost to his ass. It was all about Donna. Pure, primal frustration. Feelings. Anger. Want. Harvey wanted to box the shit out of Mitchell, and he wanted to punch away years of pent up longing with her.

A few minutes into his Donna inspired assault, Mitchell seethed anger and frustration as sweat streamed down his face. Harvey had him out-ranked and that's when a more cocky winner could lose.

Mitchell took a breather against the ropes for a few seconds before he came at Harvey full force. The slightly taller man got in multiple blows leaving Harvey struggling for breath. Fatigue cramped his legs.

Donna's guy had fight. But moments of doubt was when Harvey dug deepest, using his past to drive him.

Forceman, Hardman, Tanner, Mike's arrest, his mother, his family. Each emotion used for jab or cross against his opponent to the face, to the chest, to the gut.

Signals for mercy, the sign of his win. Mitchell growled as he was pressed to the ropes, struggling to reign himself back from failure.

Heat and sweat radiated from Harvey's face, matching the man before him, but Harvey stood tall.

"We need-" Mitchell paused as he caught his breath "-a rematch sometime."

Harvey wiped his brow, frustrated the win didn't bring him more satisfaction. He raised his chin. "I don't need a rematch Mitch. I've already sized you up and won. Find a partner at your own gym next time."

Harvey climbed out of the ring. He didn't want to be this guy's boxing buddy. He wanted him out of the picture with Donna, and the match reminded him he was still in.

Mitchell climbed out after him. "You're a real dick, you know that. I don't know what the hell your problem is, but I'm starting to figure it out. You're jealous."

Harvey strode toward him, stopping a foot away. "What did you just say to me?"

"I've got her, and you want her." Mitchell stared Harvey down, before stepping away. He threw over his shoulder, "That's one area I don't need a ring to beat you in."

Gloves were off, and it took everything in Harvey's power not to use his bare fists to follow after a retrieving Mitchell.

Mitchell shoved a guy passing him. The guy shoved back, and Mitchell tripped on a pile of kettleballs, landing on the weights.

"Ow! Motherfuckingshit! Goddammit."

Trainers rushed to Mitchell's side as he cried out. The gym staff dialed 911 when things didn't improve for a wailing Mitchell.

 _Shit._ Harvey reluctantly approached, but kept to the side.

Within minutes, the EMS team came and had him on a stretcher with ice to the groin, then started to wheel him away.

"Do you want me to call someone?" Harvey asked, feeling a pinch of guilt.

"Don't fucking tell her. Just leave me the hell alone."

Harvey nodded. He didn't want to tell her either, but he thought he should at least offer. Keeping this from Donna seemed unlikely, because one, the woman noticed everything and two, her boyfriend had his goods crushed badly enough he had to be taken away by ambulance.


	3. Chapter 3

Harvey vs. Mitchell

Donna's finger hovered over the two names on her phone.

Pressing one ignored the conclusion to every internal battle she'd been waging over the last twelve and a half years.

The other name was logical to press. The right choice.

Along with the rule she'd set in stone all those years ago, she'd been forced to make a personal addendum. No romanticized bullshit with Harvey. No blinding lines, no reading more into things other than what was exactly presented.

But why did the man have to make abiding so goddamned hard?

 _The thought of you going to prison makes me want to drop to my knees._

 _But with you it's different._

 _You know I love you Donna._

 _Thank you...for twelve years._

And finally…

 _Would you want me to?_

She had a boyfriend, at least for the moment. Harvey may unrealistically expect to be prioritized, but her valued loyalty, faithfulness above all. She wouldn't be the woman he appreciated if she didn't at least contact Mitchell first.

Her thumb brushed his name and she waited for him to pick up, taking a large sip of her wine as she settled further back on her sofa.

Mitchell didn't answer quickly. "Hello." His voice was gruff as if he'd just woken up.

"Hey. Did I wake you?"

He sighed. "No."

She pulled her phone back to glance at the time. 6:55pm. An odd time for him to sound so tired. "I just wanted to call and let you know I made it back. I'm pretty much settled, and I was hoping we could talk." She still hadn't decided what she wanted to say, but she needed to make some kind of forward step, even if the step was filled with uncertainty. "Do you want to come over?"

The silence became so deep she worried the call had dropped.

He sighed again. "Look, I'm glad you're home safe, but I'm not up to coming over."

"Is something wrong?"

"I think that's obvious, isn't it?"

Whatever had changed since she left it was anything but. "No, I wouldn't label it obvious. When I left everything was fine." Even if his intuition was more accurate than she wanted to discuss on the phone.

"Fine?" The tone of the laughter that followed dismissed the word as ridiculous. "Well, now it's not."

Maybe they both suspected things were over, but ducking out without a discussion wasn't how she handled relationships. She'd mastered reading between the lines and she didn't want the skill to inhabit any other areas in her life. "We should still talk."

"I don't think that-"

"I'll come to you if you don't want to come here," she hurried the firm words with an end to the call before he could protest further. She stood and slid fingers into the handles of her powder blue Givenchy with purpose.

* * *

The city lights blurred by as she stared out the back window in a cab. Another ended relationship because she let Harvey invade in places he'd always feigned he didn't want to be. A fool's mistake. She knew it was, from the experience that proceeded every end to every relationship she'd had over the last decade-plus.

Something had changed, was what her subconscious kept interrupting with. The same subconscious that seemed attached to Harvey's sporadic warmth he pretended to reserve for her.

Regardless, you don't stay with someone once you know they'll never be enough. You don't force emotions to stick. She'd been down the road of creating emotional workarounds. The results were further emotional damage along with added drama in the end. The only drama Donna wanted part in involved scripts and a ticket holding audience.

Harvey was more than enough of an emotional challenge.

She didn't want him to be, but he was reason she was in the cab about to break off another decent relationship. The decision made her hate herself with increasing progression of each failed attempt.

When Mitchell's door swung open, he balanced his stance with crutches, a leg in a brace up to his knee.

Her eyes grew wide, worry settling into her face. "Oh my god! What the hell happened?"

Mitchell looked away, taking an unsteady hop backwards to let her in without a word.

She took in his usually prestigious looking flat. He had cold packs and pill bottles on the side table next to the sofa, an assortment of pillows on the couch, along with a scattering of food and drink containers on the glass coffee table in front.

His appearance was a casual contrast to the usual. He wore cotton loose shorts and a baggy t-shirt. His daily style wasn't quite to PSL levels, but she'd never seen him dressed down to this extent.

He maneuvered long strides to the sofa with the crutches as if he'd been practiced at the movement, and sat down in the most gingerly fashion she'd ever seen anyone attempt, wincing as he positioned an ice pack gingerly between his legs.

She gulped back a pang of sympathy pain. "Shit. Are you okay? How can I help?"

He ignored her questions, staring forward. "So, you wanted to come here to confirm we're over. We are."

She ignored the harsh tone of his voice, and the directness. Whatever he was upset about couldn't be completely because of her. The man had to be on painkillers considering his state. "I know we didn't talk when I was gone. For that I'm sorry. I was occupied with my sister and the baby but it did give me a lot of opportunity for soul searching, which is why I wanted to talk."

"Did you manage to call your boss?" He raised his eyes to hers, jaw set in a hard line with accusation wearing a confidence she knew better than to ignore.

How the hell did he go from the way he'd been before she left to this? Even if he has suspicions, the undercurrent of his insinuation wasn't anything like the man she knew.

She came here to offer honesty. For both of them. Not to get in a fight about Harvey. "We exchanged a few texts. But something else is going on here, and I feel like I deserve an explanation."

"First, explain something to me." He picked of the glass of clear liquid, making a face as it went down.

She suspected it contained vodka instead of water considering his demeanor, which wouldn't go well with the pain killers.

"Anything between the two of you?" He asked, watching her closely.

Her shoulders fell. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. Harvey was supposed to stay out of this conversation, but the man seemed to trespass everywhere she tried to keep him out.

She took time to consider her answer because, _no_ , there wasn't. There never was no matter how many breakups, how many times they'd risked everything for the other, or put each other first. Nothing more than boss and secretary, nothing more that two old friends.

And yet no wasn't the complete truth either. "Harvey and I are two old friends, that trust each other deeply. Anything that's happened between us was in the past."

"Tell that to him." He set the glass roughly back on the side table, the liquid sloshing out.

She took a step closer, frustration building her throat. She'd never betrayed him, and didn't deserve the attitude. "Are you going to give me more? Because I'm growing tired of these vague insinuations. Something happened between when I left and now."

He settled into the pillows further, a telling crease between his brow that usually signaled he was trying to perfect what to say.

Instead of her usual response of finding it endearing, the familiarity reminded her what she was letting go of. Her best intentions kept ending in connections broken.

"You want to know what happened, but I don't think I can tell you. I've figured out it's over, just like I suspect you did. You're this amazing woman, but you're alone. It always puzzled me. Something tells me he plays a much bigger role in that than you want to admit." He shifted in his seat, cringing as he closed his eyes, she wasn't sure from his mental or physical pain.

He sucked in a deep breath before he continued. "I keep replaying that night at the event in my head. Suddenly I get why I always felt you were somewhere else, never quite present with me. I was being used, probably like all the other guys before me were being used. Biding time. He bit his lip, tilting his head as if he wanted to correct the words. "Or maybe you're hiding. You're a secretary obsessed with her boss. I stupidly thought you were just a workaholic."

The words stung her like multiple needle pricks. He'd read her like an instruction manual. A manual in a language she'd yet to fully master herself. She pressed shaky lips together, blinking back the hot tears behind her lids.

His words were too familiar, a relationship sinkhole she kept finding herself back in. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." His voice was acknowledging, but not fully forgiving.

She nodded, turning away and forcing her shaky legs to move to the door.

"Donna." Finally his voice sounded apologetic, regretful. She turned back to him. "If you want to know what happened," he motioned a hand over his legs, "talk to your boss."

They'd talk, but first she'd get to the truth. Harvey was too good at spinning things in his favor, especially when that weak attached subconscious of hers wanted nothing more than to believe him.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the responses to the last chapters! I lied about this being the last chapter. In fact, I'm not even going to promise the next one will be the last. I struggled so much with this, so I hope it came out well in the end. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I didn't want to sit on it forever. Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

When Monday came, Harvey didn't know what to expect when he walked by Donna's desk. He hadn't even decided what he should do.

Should he tell her about the Mitchell situation? Should he address what was said during his dance with Donna, or rather what _wasn't_ said?

Both were on the personal side, and involved a certain fiery redhead that called him on his shit, so his usual instinct screamed to avoid both options.

He stepped off the elevator to the 46th, striding his way down the hall and straight towards a waiting Donna at her desk.

She wore a sleeveless black dress, a satisfying yet distracting V dipping in the front.

"Good morning, Harvey." Her head was down and she glanced up for only the briefest of seconds.

"Donna. Welcome back."

He rested hands along the edge of her cubicle, waiting out a brief uncomfortable silence that made his heart rate climb.

"Anything I should know happen while I was gone?" She leveled her gaze on him, and the Donna-ness of her stare made him shift.

He'd made an effort to be as normal as he could today. A careful dimple in his navy Grenadine tie, hair pasted just right, arriving just a touch late. Despite his usual protests, her intuition often became a silent game between them. A test she always passed into the intimacy of her knowledge of him. She'd taunt him with the info, and he'd respond with denial and annoyance, beginning their day off right with banter. Her clipped tone left little room for that.

"No. I'm expecting a call from Dean McMillan this morning."

She nodded, her attention already back to her screen.

He narrowed his eyes, searching for his own clues. Her single cup of coffee stared at him. "I assume that's not mine?"

"Yours is on your desk, along with your schedule and messages." She remained focused on her screen, sliding fingers over her touchpad.

He frowned, pivoting toward his office. Was that pissed off Donna? No, pissed off Donna would've confronted him. Or at least given him obvious anger.

Before he could put anymore thought into it, a phone call from the younger of the two McMillan brothers distracted him with a thorough bitching fit about the situation with their leasing contract not being handled yet. Phone calls and paperwork busied him for a few hours, though he couldn't stop glancing to an unusually distant Donna still at her desk.

After a meeting with Jessica, he returned to three files on top of his laptop. He looked up at her, and she nodded with a brief smile.

Three companies to take over the lease. He pressed the button on his intercom. "Donna, come in here please."

She appeared before him a few seconds later.

"You did this?"

"I made a few phone calls to the tenants Louis rejected until I found a few still looking."

"This gives me something to barter when I meet with the Harbor building attorneys."

She nodded.

"They'll even get an increase of two-percent on their leasing contracts, along with more foot traffic." He looked up at her, amazement coursing through him. They met eyes briefly before she looked away.

"I'm glad I could help. I need to head to an early lunch today. And I may return a bit late. Do you have any objections?"

Her tone felt familiar, in a way that unsettled his gut. Cold. Professional. Serious. "What's going on Donna? Is everything all right?"

"It's just a personal thing."

 _Personal._ As in, not his business. She was putting him back in the Boss box.

He needed to shift tactics, not sure either of them were ready for the edge of the deep-end of emotions he was balancing. "How's Amanda and the baby?"

She blinked, seeming surprised by the question. "Good. Things went well all considered."

"So she's okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed out.

"And the baby?"

Her lips turned a bit more, her expression more relaxed. "Aubrey Rose. She had to stay in the hospital a couple extra days but they're both home and all is fine."

"I'm glad."

She traced his face as if contemplating whether to say more. She evened her expression and took a step back. "Thanks Harvey."

His shoulders sank. "Donna, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just getting back into routine."

Her voice was even again, too even. _Distant._ He didn't want the distance to grow. "Do you want to get dinner tonight? Maybe Augustines?" The invitation was meant to be casual, but he realized too late how it could be taken since their dance.

Her mouth hung open, before her lips pressed together. "Not tonight, Harvey. Maybe some other time."

He nodded, a bit wounded from the rejection. When she walked away he let her, despite not wanting to let it go.

He stared at the folders on his desk. All fell into place when she was by his side, like a state of the art, well functioning machine. She filled the slips and seams in his work-life, making any challenges turn functional. Risking losing her _here_ always won over having her _there_.

Taking risks was his job. He gambled on a daily basis, on himself and his abilities.

But risking her disappearing from the other side of that glass, their divider between professional and personal was uncharted territory for him. He was good at using his influence to avert business complications, but not personal ones.

How could he risk the most important thing he had for something he wasn't even sure she wanted?

* * *

Donna read over the printout of Harvey's meetings over the previous week, looking for anything out of place. There had been a two hour window blocked out on Wednesday, and a canceled meeting an hour after that. No notes, nothing else out of place.

If Harvey hadn't marked down what he was doing, he likely didn't leave clues with anyone at the office. She'd contemplated confronting him over and over again. But this was Harvey, and he could spin anyone in the wrong direction with ease if he was guilty. She needed to approach him with enough evidence she'd be able to push through any denial.

And if he wasn't guilty of anything, she didn't feel it was fair to come at him throwing accusations.

Three hours missing. Probably too long for therapy, which she was fairly certain he hadn't returned to.

Too long for lunch. Too late in the day for the types of escapades she didn't want to picture him engaging in.

Every once in awhile he would head to the gym during the day to box.

Boxing. _Mitchell_ boxed. But not at the same gym.

She pressed her lips together, finding Ray's name in her cell contacts.

He answered after two rings. Always ready for Harvey's needs, like most of his side-kicks. "Donna! It's been too long. What does Harvey need?"

"Hi Ray. I was just filling in Harvey's expense report, and he has a few blanks from Tuesday last week. Do you remember what meeting you drove him to? Around 2:00?"

"Oh yeah, I remember. It wasn't a meeting. I drove him to Reeds."

"You're sure?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, great. What time did you get him?"

"Around 4:30."

"Long workout huh?"

"There was some kind of accident with a guest. An ambulance and everything."

She was stunned into silence, the pieces falling together. A swallow helped her pull together. "Wow. Okay, thanks for the info."

She took a minute to settle her breathing, letting the details absorb with each intake. He couldn't have done this to her, could he?

The next number she dialed was Mitchell's executive assistant.

"Laura, hi. This is Donna. Could you help me with something?" She prayed to whatever deity would listen that Mitchell wasn't keeping his secretary in the loop.

"I can try?"

Friendly. Uninformed about recent break-ups. "What was the name of that place Mitchell got hurt? I have a friend asking for a recommendation and I don't want to give them the wrong one." Don't notice her vagueness. Don't notice her vagueness.

"Oh, it was Reed's gym. I've never seen him more pissed than he was at the ER. Said that place was full of a bunch of thugs."

The response punched her in the gut, probably leaving her feeling the same way her recent ex had. What had Harvey done to him to leave him in such shape. She didn't want to believe it, but what other evidence did she need?

"You still there?"

"Yeah. That's perfect, thanks." So perfectly crushing, Donna wasn't sure how she or they would ever recover from it.

* * *

When he returned from lunch, he was surprised to see her in his office. He admired her standing in front of his ball display, staring out into the skyline. Her hair fell down her back, like the fire that kept him going in the day and up into the night. All seemed right.

He stepped further in the office, and she spun around. Then he saw her face. Tilted brows, eyes wide, pressed lips.

"What's going on Donna? Is it your sister?" But this looked harder than worry.

"Mitchell," the name fell from her lips, the single word explaining too much all at once.

His teeth clamped together, and he fell back on one of his arm chairs. "You'll have to give me more than that Donna,"

"Do I? Really?" Her brows lifted.

He sucked in a breath, not wanting to admit anything she didn't bring up first.

"Okay, I guess you're too much of a coward so I do."

Heat rushed his face, he wasn't sure from fear, frustration, or the anxiety of being caught. "Excuse me?"

"Mitchell had been distant since I left, and I chalked it up to the mixer and how uncomfortable you made the night. I thought yet again, my position with you screwed up another relationship. I mean, _what else_ could have made him break up with me as soon as I returned?"

 _Shit_. He'd broken up with her? He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the the argument to come.

"Little did I know, you gave this an extra push by getting in a boxing ring, knocking out my boyfriend, and then somehow he ended up with a broken leg and bruises in...every where."

The bruises he'd expected but a broken leg? _Shit._ "For the record, he was the one who pushed me to get in the ring with him. And I didn't break his leg, or knock him out. I beat him."

Her eyes grew even wider. "You're unbelievable. You think that somehow makes a difference? I don't give a shit! You don't do anything unless you want to."

"Did I want to punch him? Yes. But he wanted to punch me too, and you know I don't back down from a fight."

She threw her hands up. "No, of course you don't. You don't care at all that it could screw up my relationship."

He swung his head, standing. "If me winning a fair fight with him, and him not paying attention and having some freak accident screws up your relationship, maybe your relationship wasn't so strong in the first place." He regretted the words right after he'd said them, even if he felt they were true.

"How dare you. You let him bait you, and then instead of ignoring him, you pulled out your dicks, losing all sense and it's somehow my problem with him?"

He knew he had no excuse except for being an asshole. But he also knew Mitchell was one too. "You know I didn't mean it that way." The problem was she was with Mitchell when they both knew what she really wanted.

"Why? Why did you want to hit him?"

 _Because he's a rich asshole. Because he would lie to you. Because he has what I can't stop thinking about_. "If you're looking for me to say it's jealousy-"

"Of course not," sarcasm and disgust soured her words.

She thought it was, and maybe a small portion of that was true, but she was missing the part where he lost all control when it came to protecting her.

His face fell. He didn't want to fight with her; didn't want to make things harder. "I didn't mean to…" He struggled for a valid excuse, any reason he could give for how things got to this point. All of them felt like excuses. He's screwed up.

"I'm sorry Donna." He stepped around the chair, moving closer to her. "I thought we'd get in the ring, I'd win. And that would be the last of it."

Donna shifted her feet, her lip quivering.

"Look, if you want me to talk to him-"

She straightened. "No! I want you to stay out of it." She rushed out of his office, grabbed her handbag from her desk, barreling down the corridor.

He couldn't let her leave like this. Not in the middle of the day, and not with what had exchanged when so much of what mattered was still missing.

She'd slipped into the elevator just as his long strides carried him to the bank of doors. They were closing before he could slip inside, so he used a hand to gridlock the movement.

Hard, angry green eyes locked with his as he stepped inside.

She backed away.

He stepped closer. He didn't want distance anymore.

Her shallow breaths were evident, matching the shortness he could feel in his own.

He studied her face, pink with heat, tears pooling in her eyes. He hated himself for hurting her- hated to be involved in any cause of her pain.

His hand reached up for her face, her eyes closing as he weaved fingers into her hair. He took another step forward because the minute his skin connected with hers he couldn't imagine going back.

He used his other thumb to tilt her face to him, moving forward to what he'd been hiding from for so long. When he pressed his lips to hers they were gentle at first, needing reciprocation to get passed her pain. Seconds passed, which felt like an eternity. Her lips were soft, like the gentle landing he'd always craved but never had.

She finally responded with a parting of her lips, arms looping under his to pull them closer. Align them in the way they'd craved to return to from fading memories years before. The softest whimper escaped her lips, and he felt it right in his groin, setting him on fire.

Kissing her was like breathing, a desperation there he sensed they both were scared to lose in case they never took in air that pure again.

The elevator dinged, a vulgar interruption. As the doors parted she slipped away so they parted too. Feeling her ripped from him so quickly made it hard to settle himself, a familiar panic rising in his chest. She was too far. Too distant.

A pair of unfamiliar men had stepped inside. The room began to sink, the floors passing.

He could hear her breaths. "I can't. It's too much," the emotional whisper was so soft but hit him like a punch to the gut.

He'd gotten there. _They'd_ gotten there. Their destination. But the worst fears he didn't even want to admit in his most raw thoughts were coming true. He lost her with the ding of the elevator landing on the ground floor, her hurried departure leaving him behind.

* * *

He tried to brush off their encounter. But he always struggled to hide from the emotion she created in him, and he couldn't ignore the sharpness from her departure, and the coolness that was left behind.

The rest of the week, she showed up everyday, her routine even more efficient if possible. But there was little interaction, little eye contact, and no connection. She probably needed time to process, time to let the emotions settle. But after the last time she'd left, caution often gripped him; a fear she might disappear again. Maybe the next time for good.

Their status quo had always been enough. He'd always been able to reign in his thoughts of what if. Scotch, late nights- in and out of the office -were good enough distractions.

They'd have the occasional lingering taste passed their invisible line, giving him a glimpse of what could be. The alcoholic courage would wear off by morning and they'd slip back into their habits the next day.

Which is what seemed to be happening the following days, _for her_ _._ Only this time he was the one that couldn't adjust back to normal.

It was over with Mitchell. Probably because of him. He hated himself for the tiniest bits of satisfaction at the news, considering how upset she'd been.

Losing their interactions, the ones with the spark that made his days easier to get through made him regret the risks he'd already taken.

Now, Donna going through the motions wasn't enough. Nothing short of everything from her was enough anymore. Yet he couldn't get himself to push passed the fear of making the only things they had left disappear if she didn't want the same anymore. He'd fucked up.

He tried to make peace offerings to gauge her reception. He ordered a car service to greet her each morning, and take her home each night. At first he got word she was declining, but on a rainy day she gave in and had taken the gift since.

A quartet of the newest handbag releases was his next step, but he never saw her bring one to work. The shoes were the same. He imagined them in stacked boxes in her bedroom, untouched.

He missed her more than when she'd gone to work for Louis. Maybe because she was just on the other side of the glass, impossible for him to ignore. Yet her withdrawal from their normal made them miles apart.

Or maybe it was because of the taste he'd had. He never wanted for anything. He could purchase whatever he desired, manipulate whatever needed convincing. This was the first thing he'd wanted that meant something, and the only thing out of his reach.

* * *

Rachel stared at her best friend as she picked at the third barely touched lunch that week.

"How are you doing? With the Mitchell situation."

Donna pushed her plate away. "Fine. Fine," she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Rachel paused before speaking again, wringing her hands. "And how are things with Harvey?"

Donna cocked her head, a warning stare at her friend for bringing up the unmentionable.

"I'm just saying, you'd need a machete to cut through all that tension. It's been weeks."

"So?"

Rachel chewed her lip, looking away, perhaps thinking better of pressing. "I'm worried about you. We could talk about it?"

Talking about it wouldn't get her anywhere. Nothing to do with feelings and Harvey ever got her anywhere. The door was closed, Harvey had slammed it enough times himself. "I'm fine. By the way, I have some new handbags and shoes to give you."

* * *

"You need to talk to her." Mike pressed one day as they sat in the visiting room at Danbury.

"I think you have more important things to worry about than whatever soap opera story line Rachel is feeding you," Harvey said dryly.

"So whatever is going on with Donna is a soap opera now?"

"I'm sure according to Rachel. We need to focus on strategies to get you out."

Mike pressed his lips together. "All she said was Donna was upset and you're not talking."

"I don't give her enough work." Harvey rolled his eyes, resting an elbow on the side of his chair.

Mike matched his annoyance, before leveling eyes with him. "Harvey, you know she's right. Besides, everyone needs you in top form, including me as you pointed out. And you never are, without _her_."

"You're saying I should talk to Donna for the firm?"

"Right. For _the firm_."

* * *

Harvey returned from his trip to Danbury, Mike's words like an earworm he couldn't manage to kill. She wasn't at her cubicle when he returned. He relaxed, knowing he could get a break from his random stares and her avoidance of them. A stack of fresh paperwork was on his desk, a typed letter on the top.

 _Notice of Resignation_

Her signature at the bottom stuck out as if it was in bold.

 _Donna Paulsen_

* * *

 **I'm sorry for the slower updates. Life has been busy and I'm not a fast writer. Let me know what you think! Please? It helps my motivation so much! Thanks so much for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Donna held a visual showdown with the box that contained the same collection of items she'd gathered together again, _for a third time_.

It contained a few photos and trinkets, her favorite coffee mug, a sweater for when the office got cold, her favorite hand cream, and a new succulent that appeared on her desk one morning, shortly after her delivery of the cactus.

The final item was the can opener.

She picked it up, the smooth cold steel, sharp rollers that worked from the manipulation of her fingers. Cold, sharp, and her being the only thing keeping it functioning. It felt like the perfect analogy for Harvey. The same kind of figurative bullshit she was trying not to spend too much time reflecting about.

A storm brewed inside her threatening to spill into tears again. Back into the box it got tossed.

This was stupid. Everything in that box reminded her of him. Maybe it all should've been left behind.

 _But would that have even been enough?_ What about _everything_ in her apartment that reminded her of Harvey?

She _couldn't_ spend the rest of her life not-pining-but-actually-pining for Harvey Specter. That's what her resignation was about.

The dance, the boxing match, her break-up, the kiss that wasn't addressed with weeks of opportunity. All added together they were enough of a reason to leave. More than enough.

She needed to rid herself of all of him that inhabited her.

The kitchen came first.

The glasses they'd drank out of. The Macallan she kept on hand especially for him. The bottle of Lafite Rothschild he'd bought for her two birthdays before. The china they ate on at her dinner party and their dinner together felt excessive, so she left it in the cabinet. She took all and stacked it next to the box on her table.

Her heart picked up speed as she looked over them. A few deep breaths later she convince herself she was letting go. This was all weight. Letting go of weight made her lighter.

Next she went to her bedroom, picking out shoes and dresses. Each item she pulled from the closet made her gut cinch tighter. By the time she dumped several lots in the dining room, she could hardly breathe. So much of her was tied up in them. Basically her entire wardrobe was stacked on dining chairs.

But wasn't this what she had to do? Purge all the things that kept her connected like a bungee cord to him, bringing her back each time?

There was something else in her bedroom she needed to forget. Hidden like a treasure in the top drawer of her lingerie chest.

The chemise and panties she'd worn...the other time.

She dug around in the drawer, pulling the soft pink satin garment out. The material slipped against her fingers, much like their relationship had done over the last few weeks. She placed it and the matching bottoms on top of the box, and scanned her living room, tears springing to her eyes, her chest growing tight.

She might as well burn the place down. The couch, the rug where he'd stood when said he'd loved her, the wall she could still remember him pressing her against years before. Hell, almost everything she owned the man had funded, some as gifts she'd picked with his handed-over credit card.

 _Moving_ was an option she could consider. Starting over. New Donna. New belongings. New life. She choked back a sob, the loss of everything a deeper punch to the gut.

That would be running away from the city that ran through her blood as much as theater. As much as everything that made up the last few decades that shaped her. Giving up what she loved because of Harvey was impulsive, and wouldn't fix her problems.

A deep breath of air burned her lungs.

She would mourn him, allow herself tears. Then she'd rebuild. She wouldn't lose herself in losing him.

The can opener and chemise would be donated. They'd be gone, hopefully doing more than representing unmentioned memories.

A trio of knocks made her hand fly to her chest.

She knew those knocks. _Hi_ _s_. She'd half been expecting them, but somehow her purging had made it slip from her thoughts.

After a moment to settle her racing heart she headed for the door. A quick wipe of her face with the sleeve of her sweater, and she pulled it open.

He stood there with a bag of Tai in one hand, wine in the other, wearing his shirt without a tie. His face shifted from serious to worried as his eyes traced over her. "Donna?"

She rested one hand on the door frame and the other on the door, blocking him out. "What, Harvey."

He cocked his head to the side. "I think you know what. We need to have a discussion. Over shitty Tai and some wine." He lifted the items, motioning towards coming inside.

The hardness in he body sank, her shoulders and resolve following. She walked away, settling on the couch since she was already feeling drained from the day.

His footsteps froze behind her. She turned, glancing over her shoulder to see him staring at her dining table full of things.

"What is this?" His tone was quiet, void of harshness or life. "Are you leaving?"

"No," she said with a firmness in her voice.

He took a few steps closer, his eyes landing on the box with her chemise and the can opener. His face was hard, his cheeks hollowing as if he was trying to hold back emotion.

Her forehead tightened, her eyes closing to settle the tension forming from seeing him hurt. She wished she'd disguarded the items on her bed where he wouldn't have seen them.

She heard clinking of glasses from the kitchen.

"I take it your not hungry?" His hard voice questioned from the other room, making her stomach unsettle at the tone.

He returned quickly with the wine bottle opened and a pair of goblets and began pouring.

"I think the quicker we get this over with the better," she said.

He handed her a glass, grit his teeth, with a measured head tilt and lean into the couch. His guard on display.

She sipped her wine, the tang of the liquid slipping down her dry throat as she considered how to approach an angrier Harvey than she expected to have this conversation with.

"Are you not even giving me notice?" He sipped his glass, his face more sour than the liquid it contained.

"Do you want notice, because last time you didn't."

"Now you want a discussion? After you already made the decision?"

" _My_ decision. For _me._ "

He let out a sigh from the back of his throat, leaning forward to set down his half-empty glass.

"I didn't include my notice in the letter, because I knew you'd show up and argue whatever I decided anyway."

"So this is manipulation?" He accused.

She wasn't going to let him bait her. She'd get through this calmly until he left, like he always did. "No, it's me not being able to live like this anymore."

"Being close to me."

"No." She shook her head, incredulous that the man could be so shitty at inferring with her.

She set her shoulders, readying herself for his reaction to her honesty. "You never address anything, unless it's to stop me when I've finally had enough. Which would be great if it ever actually amounted to something."

"It does."

"Like when I went to work for Louis? When you begged me to stay before tossing me aside when I didn't?"

"Donna..."

"Or when I was fired and you ignored me until you realized you needed me for trial."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

His face remained even.

"Okay. Then how about when you waited until I was angry with you for _very_ valid reasons, then decided to kiss me as a solution."

His mouth fell open, but she cut him off before he could speak.

"Which, like always, you didn't follow through with when things got difficult. You slipped right back to the way things were before. Never addressing it."

He shifted in his seat.

"I'm _tired_ , Harvey. You give me just enough to hang on. I can't anymore. I have to let go."

He swung his head, inching forward as his hands flew out to his sides. "Then let go of your job if you have to. You don't let go of everything with us."

"There is no us," she said firmly. "It's been three and a half weeks since that kiss."

"Which you ran away from."

A thundering frustration rose in her chest. "Because you'd just kept something from me that ended a relationship, Harvey!"

"I know." He closed his eyes briefly, his face going from frustration to apology. "I wanted to give you space. But I still tried. What about the gifts I sent you?"

"You mean the money you threw at the situation."

He sighed, shifting his eyes and blinking. "I don't..." His eyes glossed over, the flexing of his jaw making it obvious he was struggling.

The corners of her heart began to ache and she tried to tapped it back down. _No_ _._ She couldn't let him off easy this time.

"Obviously, I screwed up. I keep screwing up. The Mitchell thing…" He shook his head. "You were right. I _was_ jealous. I saw you that night looking incredibly stunning, and feelings that I'd been pushing aside got stirred up. Ever since you came back to my desk I'd been struggling with them."

Her mouth fell open, and she had to remind herself to breathe through her shock at the uncharacteristic admissions. _Feelings. Jealous. Stunning?_

"So when he waited for you to leave and challenged me-"

" _He_ challenged _you_?" Not that it really mattered, but she always assumed it was Harvey that had instigated the match.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "I knew it was a bad idea. But I lost my head. Like I often do when it comes to you."

She sunk into the couch, weighed down by more emotion from Harvey than he'd ever gifted her before.

"When I told you I loved you-"

Her chest tightened, and she braced her hands on the cushion beneath her.

"-I meant it. But I didn't know _how_ yet. I just felt it and the words were out before I could think them through."

Her brow drew together, a shakiness in her lips she tried to reign in.

"All I know right now is the thought life without you in it makes means the most important part is missing." His voice cracked. "Who I am is wrapped up in you."

He stared at her, his eyes wide and his expression full of earnest. Every barrier she'd carefully constructed was crumbling in her chest, leaving her vulnerable to crumbling too. She stood, and stepped away to put some distance between them. She tried to regain her composure as tears trailed her cheeks. She spun around. "Which is why all of this is impossible for me. You've made us so wrapped up in each other but never give me more than what we have around our desks."

He stood, crossing the distance to her. "I know. God Donna _I know_. I'm sorry. In my wildest dreams you become my entire world. But that's the problem. I need to be your world too. I don't know how to do things right and not hurt you. You know how you hurting cuts me off at the knees. I can't screw things up with you."

When he gripped her hands, the rest of the reserve she was trying to hold slipped away. The unspilled tears that had formed in his eyes causing aches in her own stomach.

"Harvey." Her voice was tinier than she intended, filled with emotion she couldn't hold back anymore.

He pulled his hand from one of hers, using his thumb to wipe away her tears. "I need you. To set me straight. To help me figure this out. Even though I probably don't deserve it."

She shook her head, not to say no but to shed herself of her last bits of resolve. Foolishly, but wholeheartedly. "Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to kiss me again?"

He grinned, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes making her belly clinch in ridiculous ways. Then his arm looped her waist, pulling her to him as his lips pressed against hers. Purposefully. With confidence. Happily.

A thumb brushed her cheek as his fingers tickled the back of her hairline, sending goosebumps down the side of her body. She could feel the contours of his chest as her hands raised to his shoulders, his mouth opening with hers to deepen the kiss. Her brain floated away somewhere between his tongue joining hers and their bodies going more flush.

Her hands skimmed the back of his head, pressing his mouth more urgently to hers. His lips slipped to her jaw down to her neck, lighting up places low in her abdomen. Reminding her of a different kind of hunger she'd had since she skipped lunch typing the resignation. "Harvey."

He hummed her neck, but didn't stop.

She pulled away. "I need a minute to catch myself. I feel like I'm in a whirlwind right now, and despite how much I'd love to get caught up in it, maybe we could have dinner first? I actually am kind of hungry."

He looked less than pleased with the idea, before smiling again. "If we must. I did pick out your favorites."

She nodded, and he disappeared in the kitchen again to return with the bag. He pulled out a pair of paper plates and some chopsticks along with a scattering of options and she dug in.

"Ordering something for Mitchell might be a nice gesture. I hear he's still on crutches," she said between bites.

"I could order a pizza for him, but I'm not sure he'd appreciate my name on the invoice."

"You're such a dick."

He laughed. "I've been told before."

He looked thoughtful as they finished their food. "When you stopped me, did you mean for the night, or…" He shrugged. "Because I really want to make another move."

Her head tilted in his direction. "You really think you're getting lucky tonight?"

He glanced toward her dining table. "It's been a long time since I saw you in that pink number over there."

"I was going to burn it."

"No you weren't," he challenged.

She glided over to the box, hooking her finger under a strap, leaving the material dangling. "What are you waiting for?"

He met her in haste, his hands pulling her to him from her waist. "I'm never waiting to come to you again. Not without _a fight_." He leaned towards her mouth as she rolled her eyes at the emphasis on the last word.

"Too soon for my fight metaphor?" he teased.

She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin, before his lips pressed to hers erasing the need.

* * *

 _ **Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd appreciate reviews if you did(or even if you didn't!). Thank you so much for reading and for the support. I'm so happy to be in this fandom. This ended happy. I needed something to end happily after the last episode. Gah, I'm so depressed about this season of Darvey.**_


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